Color in Resonance
by NoInspirationForMyUsername
Summary: Headcannon. The colors swirling around him, inseparably connected with the music, had been there his whole life. Every time he heard the beat, he saw the colors. Nice knew its name - synesthesia - but did that really matter?


**Color in Resonance**

'_Kami-sama kono koe wo,  
Sora e to habatakasete.  
__Dare to mo chigau hane de,  
Yume wo miseru kara.' _

He taps his fingers to his leg, perfectly matching the rhythm. He watches the colors swirl around him, no, not swirling, making perfect squares. Dark green and blue swiftly interchange their appearances, sometimes swapping place with brown. He felt himself smile. He liked this song.

He tossed a coin of thirty yen into the air, studying how the colors broke to let it through. Suddenly, the squares become larger, more drawn out, and the colors become clearer. It's only fleeting, though. As soon as the song speeds up again, they're back to normal.

Nice closes his eyes. The colors still dance behind his eyelids, but less strong. The color is less distinct, and he can't make out the squares anymore. Still. It was something.

He waited until the music stopped, before playing the song again.

In the background, he could hear Murasaki talking with Hajime about something. He couldn't make out the color of their voices, not within the midst of his musical cacophony. He leant back on the bar counter, letting the notes assault his ears through his headphones. Somehow, he managed to fall asleep in that position.

It wasn't long, though, before Murasaki woke him up. At first, he couldn't hear or see him over the sound of the music. Then, he got the brilliant idea to stop the song, before asking Murasaki to repeat the statement.

Murasaki just rolled his eyes and repeated his explanation about the 100,000 yen job they'd just got. Nice felt excited. Money! He only had about hundred yen left on his name, so he really needed a boost.

Nice was out the door before Murasaki had the time to scream that he had to slow down.

͏

* * *

When he was younger, he used to think that seeing sound was normal. It was something he had had his whole life, why should he think it was weird?

It wasn't until he excitingly told his tutor what beautiful colors that song had, he had been explained that it, in fact, wasn't normal.

He didn't fully understand it, not even today. Oh, he knew the name, sure, that was easy. The name of his 'disease' was synesthesia, or, alternatively, chromesthesia. But then they go on and on about connections in his brain that are wrong and he's sure he'd get it if he'd pay attention, but frankly, he doesn't care. There is nothing wrong with him or his brain. This is his reality, and honestly, it sounds a lot cooler than the alternative of being normal.

So he ignored all the formal explanations and made up his own.

To him, what was happening in his brain was a side effect of his Minimum. While the official name for his Minimum is 'Cannonball', over the years he found that that name was all wrong. A cannonball wasn't faster than sound, and his Minimum was connected to sound. And colors. Seriously, who was the genius that came up with the name?

No, his Minimum became active through sound, and it made itself stay stable with sound. How?

Simple. By seeing sound in the form of colors, he could always deduct his position. There was always some form of sound; be it a voice, a machine, or his own music. The colors bounced of his 'prey', the innocents, the buildings, everything. Without the colors, he wouldn't be able to see where he was. And that could lead to catastrophic things. What if he beat up Murasaki instead of the villain? What then?

No, he was much better off with his 'disease', thank you very much.

Still, as many times as he'd seen it, the colors during his Minimum use continued to amaze him.

While he used his Minimum, the colors never actually disappeared. The forms simply changed.

After he snapped his fingers – a distinct red – the world would turn liquid. The sounds he had been surrounded with previously blended in with the colors out of his headphones, wrapping itself around him, dripping on others, sliding through cracks and bouncing of buildings. The whirlwind of colors may put off some people, but he loved it. There was no place in this world where he would rather be than his own little World of Liquid Colors.

His own, fast, sonic palace.

* * *

͏

Murasaki's voice is dark yellow. But it hadn't always been that way. At first, his voice had been orange, sometimes flashing red. However, the longer Nice stayed with the guy, the softer the colors had become, until it finally settled on yellow. And that surprised him.

Yellow, in his mind, is a color of peace, of calm. That are not the first things that come to your mind when you see Murasaki fighting. At first glance, you'd say that the red or orange fitted better. At first, it was.

However.

When they eventually became partners and, even better, friends, he started noticing other character traits of his. He loved cooking, even though he wouldn't admit it even under the threat of death. He was softhearted enough to take over a lot of the household chores, even though Nice didn't force him to. He tried to make contact with Hajime, laughed with Birthday, and talked and moaned with Ratio about their stupid partners. In moments like these, it was when Nice realized that the color fit him after all.

Except that there are always exceptions.

There are times when his voice just snaps to orange, or, in extreme cases, red. These are the times when Murasaki screams. Yelling at Nice because he took a low paying case is dark orange. Screaming in pain is a pale red. Thundering in fury is blood. Giving Nice a compliment about a job well done is warm orange.

Those were the moments when Nice knew, just knew, that he should stay away from the guy.

Skill also had a yellow voice. His was paler, true, but still, Nice liked the fact that he and Murasaki had the same voice. That meant Murasaki could be trusted.

Because Skill, before he died, had had the most beautiful shade of yellow he'd ever seen.

Art had a light green voice. Which was interesting to Nice, because he had seen the evolution of that color.

When he first met art, his voice was a bright grass-green.

When they figured out that Art didn't have a Minimum, his voice turned bitter-lemon.

Then slowly, as he made his peace with the fact, it turned light green. But even so, that slight edge of lemon stayed in it for all eternity.

And finally, when he turned, his voice shifted to brown.

It wasn't until he came back from his 'death', that Art's voice slowly started turning grass-green again.

Nice had never been so happy before.

Birthday's voice is different from a lot of other people. His voice is a flamboyant pink. Not something you would expect for a guy. Nevertheless, it fitted him perfectly. Screamy, eye-catching and extravagant: yes, that was Birthday alright.

Birthday's voice was probably the most movable voice Nice had ever seen. One moment, it could be a calm, soft baby-pink, before suddenly turning to an bright, flashy rose-pink. However, it was rare that his voice changed into something other than pink. It had only happened two times so far.

One time, his voice shot into red. Ratio had been lying on the floor, only a few meters away, blood dripping from his mouth. Above him, some random Minimum Holder had been grinning. Before he or Murasaki could react, Birthday had already been remodeling the guy's face, all the while spewing obscenities from his mouth. While Murasaki immediately checked on Ratio, before joining Birthday, he had just been standing there, looking fascinatingly at the color coming from his friend.

That wasn't the first time it'd changed, though. The first, the very first time, it had been at the Facultas. Nice and Birthday had been sparring when suddenly, Birthday had fainted. Nice, understandingly, had panicked and started yelling for help. Within no time, Ratio had materialized himself at their side, and tried to wake him up. When Birthday finally did, his joke was white. Not long after that, both Ratio and Birthday exited the Facultas.

Ratio's voice was almost the exact opposite of Birthday's. His indigo almost never changed, almost being on par with the steadiness of Hajime's. It always had the same shade. Irritation never shone in his voice. Neither did anger, or cockiness, or happiness. The only thing that could change the shade, was worry.

Nice always knew when Ratio worried, even when he tried to hide it. Ratio worried a lot, but most of the time, it was only visible in a slight softening of the blue. Almost untraceable, and sometimes he point blanc missed it. Sometimes, though, the indigo turned baby-blue, and then, Nice knew to calm Ratio down.

Those instances almost always had to do with Birthday. Sometimes, Nice couldn't see what triggered it. Birthday's voice was stable (or well, as stable as it ever was), and Ratio's voice suddenly flashed baby-blue. Other times, Birthday looked like he might not be feeling well. Or it happened during a fight.

When Birthday landed in the hospital, though, the baby-blue became permanent.

And after he was healed, Nice never saw it again.

Nice especially loved it to see Ratio's voice together with Birthday's. The two colors constantly clashed, but wrapped themselves around each other anyway. It was a beautiful sight.

As unmoving Ratio's voice was, Hajime was the absolute queen of steadiness. Her voice was a pale scarlet, and it never, _ever_, changed. Not when she was fighting, not when she was eating, never.

But it hadn't always been that way.

When he'd just met her, her voice had been red. When she had started screaming her 'name' at him, it had been so dark, it was almost black. Then, when she begged to be let out, it was sangria. And when he gave her a real name, it was the most beautiful shade of gold he had ever seen.

Later, he would say he didn't know why he'd helped her. But he did.

It was so he could see that shade of gold again.

(And his own voice, you ask?

Well, sometimes he caught a glimmer of purple, but he couldn't be sure. Especially since Moral had exactly the same shade as he did.)

* * *

͏

The first person he tried to explain it to was Art.

He failed spectacularly.

He couldn't find the words to describe what he felt was normal, and Art stared at him like he was crazy. The same happened when Skill asked him, later.

It took years before he found words that came even close to describing what he saw.

The first he properly explained it to was Murasaki.

'It is like a symphony made of colors. From one instrument, you hear one sound, right? But that instrument, it can also play high, and low, and fast, and slow. Then, in a symphony, you hear other instruments playing through it. They can play the same tune, but sound completely different. Or they can play something completely different. But it never gets chaotic. It almost always sounds harmonious. That is what it's like for me. There are always different colors in different shades, but they generally aren't distracting. You get it?'

The first one that got it was Ratio.

'So it's like the human body? Like, there are so many different organs, but still, they work together? Is it possible to get hurt from too much colors?'

'Yes! And yes, it can sometimes get too much, but not all that often.'

And sometimes, it was too much. But that was only for a few seconds, before he started seeing the beauty in it.

* * *

Some envied him. They envied the fact that he could see and do things that others couldn't.

Others pitied him. They thought it must be hard to live in a reality nobody else could understand.

But really, Nice didn't think anything about it.

He saw sound, that was his reality. And does your reality amaze you?


End file.
